


All is Calm, All is Bright

by itslauram



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28120695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itslauram/pseuds/itslauram
Summary: A quiet, Christmas Eve moment on the Ridge. No beta on this one, just a little something that was hanging out in the Google docs. :) Happy Holidays!
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 20
Kudos: 131





	All is Calm, All is Bright

**Author's Note:**

> A quiet, Christmas Eve moment on the Ridge. No beta on this one, just a little something that was hanging out in the Google docs. :) Happy Holidays!

Jamie’s broad form darkened the doorway, causing Claire to glance up from the book in her lap, eyes softening at the sight of him. Tucking the corner of a page down, she placed it on the small table next to the lamp that bathed their bedroom in a soft glow. 

Heavy footsteps treaded across the room, leaving tracks of melted ice on the wood floor. Chilled, slightly numb fingers began the task of disrobing and joining his wife. 

Claire opened her arms and he lay his head against the sanctuary of her chest. Tugging the tie loose that held his red, now dusted with gray, hair she threaded her fingers tenderly through the locks, massaging his scalp. The usual mixture of medicinal herbs (the scent of a healer, unmistakably Claire) and a hint of floral, flooded his senses. His eyelids were heavy and sleep would come hastily if he gave in to it’s call, but he had not seen her since just before dawn that morning. She’d been half asleep when he bent next to the bed to kiss her. A gentle brush of lips, a good morning and goodbye.

Both were accustomed to spending long days apart. That never meant he didn’t miss his wife. The sting of twenty years apart, while it had lessened somewhat, never truly calmed. The searing, inflamed wounds had faded into pale, knotted scars. Scars that screamed when nudged without warning. The pain exposing itself in a kiss that might last a beat longer or an overly tight embrace. 

Reclining back against the pillows stacked behind her and bringing her knees up, Claire pulled the soft quilt over the two of them. 

The wind howled, snow falling thicker and heavier as the hours passed. Come morning, the Ridge would be covered in a blanket. 

In her imagination, Bing Crosby crooned on about what he dreamt of. She chuckled soundlessly. A rare wave of nostalgia for the past (or the future?) passing through her. 

Leaning forward, nuzzling her face into her husband’s thick locks before placing a kiss there she asked, “Did Santa visit?” 

Brianna insisted they introduce Santa Claus into the Fraser-MacKenzie holiday traditions that year. She’d declared Jemmy the perfect age for the jolly, old man to slide down their chimney. 

“Aye, finally” he laughed, “Wee Jemmy wouldna fall asleep. It damn near took an hour of promises that there wouldna _be_ any toys in the morning to get the lad to close his eyes.”

“Huh. Well, I _seem_ to remember a certain hard headed, little girl who tried to pull the exact same business at that age. Too impatient to wait for anything. Can’t imagine who she got that from.” 

Jamie yelped as she reached down to pinch his side to make her point.

Their laughter subsided, replaced by a heavy undercurrent of sadness. While Jamie reveled in hearing stories of Brianna’s childhood, a sense of loss tore at him. It was a complex hand he’d been dealt. Grief over the past, the time with his wife and his daughter lost to him forever. Guilt for entertaining those thoughts when he was so abundantly blessed with a life beyond anything his imagination could have conjured up so many years before. 

He’d always lovingly teased his wife over her glass face, her inability to hide her thoughts. Yet, as her arms tightened around him, it was _she_ who had the uncanny ability to read him like a book. 

“We’re here, Jamie”, she whispered. “I love you. _She_ loves you. We are so lucky.” 

He sat up, resting his forehead against hers and winding a hand into the glorious head of raven and silver curls. 

Claire closed the small space between them with a kiss. 

“Merry Christmas, Jamie.” 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
